Something Death Cannot Touch
by Adelphrexia
Summary: Lizzie Salvatore was just seventeen when she succumbed to consumption. Unable to face eternity without his beloved sister, Damon does the only thing he can. He turns her. Part 2 of my series The Life, Death and Afterlife of Elizabeth Salvatore. Rated M for blood.


_24 September, 1867_

 _Silvermount Sanitarium_

 _20 miles outside Charlottesville, Virginia_

Tired. So tired. A wet cough racked her thin body. Too weak to cover her mouth, she watched helplessly as blood sprayed forth, spattering garishly across the white sheets. Her face shone with sweat from the fever, and it felt as though there was a heavy weight on her chest, constricting her breath. She knew she was dying, she had heard the nurses whispering that she didn't have long, her lungs were too filled with fluid for the doctors to do anything but try to make her comfortable during her final days.

Consumption. Lizzie Salvatore had fallen ill when it had swept through Roseway Academy, the boarding school that had been her home for half her life. That had been only six weeks ago, the sickness had overtaken her far more quickly than it had her schoolmates. The doctors said it was the melancholy that had caused her to succumb so rapidly. She had no will to fight the disease, they said. No will to live. Why would she? She was alone, her mother dead years ago from consumption, her father and brothers killed two years ago during the Battle of Willow Creek. She coughed again, choking slightly on the blood. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted into a fitful sleep, hoping that death would take her during her slumber and end her agony.

Damon stared up at the white building in front of him. He hoped he had finally found the right place. As soon as he had gained control of his bloodlust following the transition, he had sought out his sister. She had to know that he was still here, that she wasn't all alone in the world. But when he had arrived at the boarding school she had been attending, she wasn't there. Apparently, a bout of consumption had swept through Charlottesville, and Lizzie had fallen ill. The headmistress, under compulsion, had told him that his sister had been sent to a sanitarium, but she didn't know which one. So he had began searching the facilities near the city, hoping he got to her in time. That had been a month ago.

He approached the front door and knocked. A stately, middle aged nurse answered.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said. "I was hoping you could help me. You see, my dear sister was admitted to a consumption ward about six weeks ago, and I'm trying to locate her."

The nurse smiled at him sadly. "I can see if she was admitted here, please come in and follow me." He stepped over the threshold and followed the nurse down the hall to a small office.

"Now, Mr..."

"Salvatore."

"Mr Salvatore. What is your sister's name?"

"Elizabeth Jane Salvatore."

"What is her birth date? And from where would she have been sent?"

"December 11, 1849, and she was transferred from the Roseway Academy For Girls in Charlottesville."

The nurse shuffled through a stack of files in front of her. She finally pulled one up and opened it.

"Ah," she stated. "Here we go. Yes, she was transferred here about six weeks ago. Oh my," she winced.

"What?" Damon was suddenly alarmed. "What is it?"

The nurse looked up at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Mr Salvatore," she said, her voice sad. "Her condition is quite severe. She's been moved to the terminal ward, and all the doctors can do now is try to make her comfortable."

Grief washed through him. His sweet sister was here, dying all alone. "Can I see her?" he asked softly.

The nurse nodded. "Of course. I'd advise against any contact, though, to minimize your risk of contracting the disease."

Damon shook his head. "No need, I'm immune. She can't infect me." But maybe he would be able to save her.

He followed the nurse down the hall, stopping in front of a plain white door at the end of the hall. "Take as much time as you need. If you need anything, just ring." She pointed to a small silver bell hanging next to the door.

Nodding politely, Damon turned and opened the door. The room was dim, a single candle burning on a stand next to the bed. The window was open, allowing the fresh, balmy air to fill the room. He could hear raspy, labored breathing and a weak, fluttery heartbeat. The faint smell of stale blood lingered in the room.

Damon stepped forward, his gaze locked on the figure on the bed. There was a sheen of sweat on her pale face. He pulled a chair to her bedside. Stroking a lock of damp hair off her forehead, Damon studied his sister sadly. She had matured in the past two years, her face had lost the last of that childlike roundness. Long dark lashes rested on her high cheeks, and her full lips were parted slightly, a faint tinged of blood staining them. Even with the pallor of death settled over her, she looked angelic.

Anger suddenly boiled up in his chest. It wasn't fair, someone so young and beautiful shouldn't be robbed of life like this. Sweet, gentle, and bright Lizzie, deserved to live. He turned, grabbing a cup that was beside the pitcher of water behind him. He elongated his fangs and bit into his wrist, allowing his blood to trickle into the cup. He didn't know if vampire blood could cure her, but even if she died, at least she would come back. Setting aside the cup, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Inside was a ring, similar to his own but smaller and more feminine. Emily had given it to him while he was in transition, saying Katherine had intended to turn Lizzie as well. He had planned on giving her a choice, not wanting to curse her with an eternity like Katherine had done to him and Stefan. But that wasn't an option, and he refused to let death rob him of another loved one. He knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care. He quickly slipped the ring onto her finger, then grasped her shoulder and shook her lightly.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Damon?" she rasped, her blue eyes glassy and confused.

"I'm here, Lizzie." He smiled softly down at her.

"Am I dead?"

"No, sweetheart. You're not dead."

"But how... You died, Damon. You and father and Stefan..." She coughed, drops of blood appearing on her lips.

"I'll explain later." He grabbed the cup of his blood from the stand. "Here, drink this. It'll help." He lifted the cup to her lips and she drank obediently.

When the cup was empty, she pulled back and grimaced. "It tastes like blood. Everything tastes like blood now," she whispered.

"Just rest now, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake."

She settled back into the pillows. "But Damon," she said softly. "What if I don't wake?"

"You will," he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you, Damon. Thank you..." she trailed off, breathing growing shallower.

Damon held her hand in his and watched as her face relaxed and her heart slowed to a stop. "I love you to, Lizzie."

He placed her hand gently on the bed next to her and went out into the hallway. He rang the little bell, and soon a young nurse appeared. Taking hold of her, he looked into her eyes.

"Wait inside my sister's room. Do not make a sound or move," he compelled her.

She obeyed, going to stand in the corner opposite him. Now all that was left was to wait until she woke.

She was floating. It was dark and silent and she felt completely weightless. Had she died? She remembered seeing Damon, he had smiled at her and assured her that he would stay with her.

Suddenly she was jerked downwards, and she was back in her body, drawing in a sharp gasp. Her eyes shot open, and she bolted upright. What happened? She looked around wildly, the sunlight filtering through the drawn curtains stinging her sensitive eyes. He gaze stopped on the chair next to her bed. Damon was sitting there, looking at her.

"Damon?" She winced. Her head was pounding and her gums ached. "What's going on?"

He took he hand and stroked it soothingly. "It's okay, Lizzie," his voice was soft, steady. "You were so sick. I helped you."

"What did you do?" she asked, trying to stay calm. She was so hungry. She could smell the blood staining the sheets, and her stomach wrenched painfully. "I thought you died! How are you even here?" She could feel the panic building in her.

"Shhh, it's okay. Technically, I did. But I came back. Stefan too."

"But... how? How is that possible?" She struggled to calm down.

"Katherine," he replied. She felt sick. What had that woman done? "She was a vampire. She fed us her blood, and when we died with it in our bodies, we began transitioning as well."

Vampire? She remembered her father talking about vampires during one of his meetings with Johnathan Gilbert. They had certainly believed the old stories were true. Damon was a vampire. Suddenly, it hit her. She had been dying. He had given her something to drink, something that tasted like...

"Damon," she whispered. "Did you give me your blood?" She looked into his eyes.

He looked defensive. "You were dying. I couldn't just let you die, Lizzie! If anyone ever deserved to live forever, it's you."

She paused. She knew he had done what he did out of love. And she didn't want to die. She was only seventeen, there was so much she hadn't gotten to experience yet.

"Am I a vampire now?" She asked.

"Not quite. You still need to feed to complete the transition. Here," Damon motioned for the nurse in the corner. She had barely noticed there was someone there, but suddenly, all Lizzie could hear was the young woman's heart pumping blood through her veins. She needed it, she was so hungry. Damon stood and faster than she could see, bit the nurse's slender neck. The smell of fresh blood filled the room and Lizzie launched herself off the bed and latched onto the other woman's neck. As the hot liquid filled her mouth, she felt a sharp pain in her gums as her new fangs erupted. She sunk them into her prey's flesh, drinking deeply.

After a few minutes, she pulled back, dropping the now-limp body to the floor. A power surged through her. Everything was heightened, she could hear and smell better than she ever thought possible. And she felt so _strong_. She looked up at Damon, blood still dripping from her mouth, and saw dark veins surging under his eyes and his own fangs elongated. Was that what she looked like? She turned and looked into the small mirror above the basin. It _was._ She turned back to her brother.

"What now?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world."

She grinned, her fangs retracting and her face returning to normal. An eternity at her favorite brother's side? She couldn't have asked for a better fate.

 **End**


End file.
